Little Ms Facebook, so much I want to say, some useless and senseless words I could probably do without, and to many, words that are just fill in words, but all are required for what I feel I have to tell someone. Everyone knows I call a spade a spade, tell it like I see it, an not afraid to express my true opinion, and I do not get mad if you disagree with my opinion and even at times prepare myself for ridicule, degradation, shame and humility some people try to inculcate on me; but my skin is thicker than most peoples, my heart can become very enigmatic and perplexed to the point that is is almost capable of turning to pure stone. But then again, it can be the most loving, caring, softest heart you have ever imagined. Just as my life as a child being denied me, because of the constant abuse my mother and I received from a drunken step father. I cannot count on the times my mother and I spoke openly to each other of our thoughts and reasons for each of us to contemplate a double suicide. The world was not ours to enjoy. We lived in fear up until the time my step father was killed. I know my mother loved him so very much and I could not understand how because of his gloating over how he would cause us pain, injury, humiliation and embarrassment to us. I remember one time when I was probably 12, no more than 13, when he beat my mother and I and threatened to kill us if we called the authorities. He drug my mother by the hair of her head and kicked me all the way down our 150 foot driveway, and when he would knock me down he would wait until I got up and knock me down again. When he got done beating us, she and I fled to Joe McGuires shop on the edge of town where we always sought refuge, and knew we were protected for a while. In the shop was a 1953 Ford convertible that belonged to his son, Arlon, and in his car was a shotgun and a 22 rifle. My mother was in the back seat and I was in the front, both being tired and full of pain to the point we talked about ending our lives for good. We convinced ourselves the only peace we ever were going to have was when we died.....and it was then my mother begged me to shoot her. She suffered so much and said she couldnt take it anymore and that was when she grabbed Arlons shot gun, put it up to her head, told me goodbye, and as the tears flowed down her cheek, she looked at me and said, Bucky, I cant leave you here for him to beat you to death. So we knelt in prayer and ask God to protect us from his abuse, and it wasnt long when someone killed my stepfather. We continued on with our lives with out the fear of him any more, but more than once the thought of suicide entered my mind. Another time suicide entered my mind was on August 21st of this year when my Little Peepot died. As most of you know I live by my self. Back then it was my little dachshund precious Peepot, his brother Harley my Boston Terrier, and I baby sit my sons Rotterman Roxie, and Roxies brother Widdles. They are my life. They are my joy and my peace. They are my world.... But most of all they love me and I love them and we all depend dearly on each other. On August 21st, around 3:45p.m., I got in my lift chair, lowered it so Peepot could get up there with me and we all went to sleep, with little Peepot in my arms, Harly in the window on his pillow, Roxie and Widdles in their chairs in the doggy room. The next thing I knew Harly was jumping on my chair, running back and forth to the doggy room and Roxies whining and licking my hand and going into the doggy room so I got up to see what was wrong. As I got to the doorway of the doggy room I seen Peepot lying on the floor next to Roxies chair, and thought how odd that was as she never done that before. When I got thru the doggy room door I seen Peepot had used the bathroom on the carpet, but as I got closer I seen Peepot little head encircled in vomit. I immediately dropped to my knees and seen he was choking on his vomit, I picked him up, laid him on Roxies chair and he was movong his paw like he was asking me to help him. I raised his little head up and tried stick my finger down his throat to clear his air way, but I didnt make it in time. I was cussing, mad at my self for being handicapped and not being able to help him. With his little tongue hanging out, I seen his breathing was shallow and about stopped, and dthen I realized there was nothing I could do for little Peepot except hold him close and pray for him and comfort him the very best I could. While holding little Peepot in my arms I told him how very much I loved him and how sorry I was for not being able to help him, other than try to comfort him. As I raised his little head up to comfort and kiss him, when I got my head to his little face, he gently put his nose on my face like he was kissing me and patting my arm, his little foot started moving like he was trying to run, but when I hugged him and kissed him and looked in his little brown eyes, he took one last very deep breath, closed his little eyes for the last time, and at 4:28p.m., August 21st, Peepot died in my arms. After holding him in my arms for almost two hours, I wrapped him in his favorite big purple towel, and when Charly got home he buried him at the spot next to the house where Peepot was always looking at. After 13 years, 5 months, and 6 days, Peepot went to guard Gods throne. I had lost the very best, precious , and sweetest thing I ever had....and again, for the second time in my life, I wanted to die and even planned on doing it. But there was my other baby, Harly Oliver, who also loved me, and I realized not only he needed me, but my grand doggys Widdles and Roxie needed me too. Then when Joy brought my new grandson over the next evening to see me, I am so glad I didnt do any thing stupid, like I had planned to do. I know my sons and daughters are all grown and my grand babys will be taken great care of, and chances are I will never see some of my childen, grand children or great grand children ever again, but God knows I love them all. Which bring me to this moment in my life....On January 21st of this year, I was diagnosed with cancer. When Dr Hall told me; I am so sorry to have to tell you this Mr Riney, but you have cancer. I told him I expected I did as a lot of members of my family had either died from it or were survivors of cancer. This is when the third suicidal thought came to me....I thought if I kill myself my children would mourn for a few weeks perhaps, and then their live would go on so I made up my plans to end it all before Christmas of this year. Dont know why I chose that date other than I wanted to die on the day Jesus was born. Coincidence? No. Just wanted it done my way as usual. I missed an appointment or two after having them changed on me but today was my C Day. The day I found out how much my cancer had progressed. When DrHall diagnosed me, my PSA was 8.95, which he said wasnt too good. My first check up Dr Hall asked me what I wanted to do, have chemo, surgery, radiation? What was I going to do about it. I told him nothing because was not accepting the fact that I had cancer. He told me I sure did but if I chose to do nothing, that was okay with him, or if I chose a alternative, he would stand by me all the way. My son from California came to vist several months ago and he was telling me he had a friend who was reading up on a cure for cancer and he would have him contact me. I learned a man named Rick Simpson wrote a book Run from the Cure and I read some of it and tried the cure they were talking about. For the last four or five months I have been taking the medicines describe to a T in the book, and when I went to Dr Hall today, I was REALLY expecting him to say, Mr Riney, Your cancer is run amuck and has spread all over. But then I remembered all the people who were praying for me and my statement I made to God about how I didnt accept cancer in His Wonderful Name.....But satan was there telling me...you have cancer and it is killing you. You have cancer and you are going to die. I always knew I have always had a lots and lots of faith but in the past few days, even when I asked for all on here to prays for me, I slowly but surely, began doubting BIG TIME. I didnt know what a miracle was as I have never had one. I have people tell me miracles were real because they experienced on. But it didnt happen to me soooo....I did have big doubts about it. I am a ....you gotta show me kind of guy. And I say this even after KNOWING God was going to do something for...(but doubt was always there). My plans were if my cancer had spread, I was going to by a Minni Winni and Harley and I would take off so we were a bother to no one.....and when we got to where we wanted to be, I was going to take a bunch of my medication and when it started making me groggy, I was going to turn the gas on so we could both die with each other and in our sleep. I dont think I could shoot myself, but I sure dont ever want to be a burden to any one. Especially my children. So as I lay my head on my pillow this evening with Harleys head lying on his pillow, I will take my thoughts and fears of cancer, and tell God.....Thank you Jesus. Friends, my enemies, my family, my facebook family....my PSA went from 8.95....DOWN TO 5.5...so miracles DO happen. The next time I go see Dr Hall in 6 months......I KNOW...I REALLY KNOW, these are the words he will speak to me.....Mr Riney, I dont what happened, but there is no evenone little bitty trace of cancer in your body. But DrHall does know the extent of my faith in God. So friends, I know from experience, you can still have a little itty bitty doubt, but if you have FAITH, and trust God....ALL THINGS ARE POSSIBLE...Praise the wonderful name of Jesus. Yes my friend, God IS real and He is on call 24 hours a day to heal them that believe. Thanks for you prayers. I love every single one of you. From the bottoms of the oceans to the top of the universe....Thanks you Jesus.
Posted on: Fri, 15 Nov 2013 00:55:31 +0000
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